


most young kings get head (and similar misquotations)

by babelincoln



Series: broken recccord [2]
Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Canon Compliant, Fantasizing, M/M, MMM Era, Masturbation, More tags will be added upon the upload of the second part!, Porn With Plot, Secret Crush, Size Queen Choi Hyunsuk, Standalone fic despite being part of a series it just exists within the same continuity!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babelincoln/pseuds/babelincoln
Summary: and by accident; real, genuine accident, his eyes catch mashiho’s reflection in the glass wall of the shower, and he notices something troubling.before hyunsuk can process what he’s doing, his eyes snap back to mashiho; though this time he doesn’t look to his face. instead, his eyes dart downwards, below mashiho’s waist.that’s not fair.
Relationships: Choi Hyunsuk/Takata Mashiho
Series: broken recccord [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007889
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	most young kings get head (and similar misquotations)

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the same continuity as my fic The Bird With The Rhinestone Plumage, but you should be able to follow this perfectly fine without reading it! 
> 
> This was going to be a oneshot, but there was a kind of notable leap in the narration and anything i wrote to try and fill it felt irrelevant to the storyline, so the most obvious solution was to split it into two parts! i'm like a quarter done with the second part so it should follow soon :)

hyunsuk had spent most of his childhood being the shortest boy in his class. 

it was the sort of insecurity that didn’t quite present itself every day. sometimes, hyunsuk would go weeks at a time without thinking about his height - after all, though he’d been a tiny child, he’d grown into a pretty solid average. most of the time, he didn’t even think about it. it wasn’t until he was craning his neck up at a vocal coach or a winner member that everything would flood back to him. the gentle teasing; snarky little comments from classmates that built up like death by a thousand cuts. the time when it was his duty to clean the chalkboard after class, and he had had to fetch an upperclassman to wipe the top row of math equations away. that one viciously horrid older boy who used to stand behind him in the lunch queue and use his head as an armrest — okay. 

maybe as childhood trauma goes, it’s pretty weak. 

regardless, the universe had been on his side when it had put together treasure. this is true in many ways, but especially because, with the exception of haruto, none of the other boys breached one hundred and eighty centimetres. hyunsuk had clocked in, when he stopped growing, at a hundred and seventy-one. this was still notably shorter than most of the members, but it was taller than mashiho. mashiho was a hundred and sixty-nine. 

if this seems like an unnecessary fixation on numbers, it’s because it is. but the two centimetres that hyunsuk has on mashiho are all that prevents him from being the shortest in the group and, sometimes, all that keep him sane. 

from the day they had measured their height for their official profiles, hyunsuk had harboured a private smugness about the fact he was taller than mashiho. it was a petty thing; and he’s not sure if it’s a leftover product of the childhood teasing; or if it’s just a symptom of a testosterone-fuelled competitiveness with other men that he had thought himself better than to get trapped in. all he knows is that there’s a tiny dredge of pride to be drained from being second shortest member. even if it was a matter of two centimetres, and most people would look at the two of them next to each other and assess they were the same height, hyunsuk knew he was taller and that was enough. enough, if nothing else, to ease his insecurities about his own height. 

for his pettiness, karma presents itself soon enough. he learns, after a long day of rehearsing choreography to ‘mmm,’ that god doesn’t give with two hands. 

when the door to the bathroom clicks open as hyunsuk is showering, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “i’m not going to use all the hot water, junkyu, can you let me shower in peace?” he complains. sometimes, hyunsuk would stand under the water and just exist, or sometimes a melody would pick the moment to form in his brain and he’d lose track of time. he’d never intended to use up all the hot water the three times he has, but he guesses being in a new dorm with only three of the other boys had allowed him to be a little more liberal with his time management while washing up. yoshinori’s dirty minded snickering as junkyu complained about hyunsuk’s long showers had successfully embarrassed him enough to sort that problem out, though. he turns around, the statistics of his newfound speed-shower runtimes halfway to his mouth, when he realises that his intruder isn’t junkyu at all. nor is it either of his other dormmates. 

there stands mashiho, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, a bashful expression on his face. “hey.” he says simply. 

hyunsuk yelps belatedly, clasping his hands over his crotch- the glass walls of the shower doing nothing to protect his modesty. mashiho laughs a little. 

“sorry, hyung, i didn’t mean to startle you.” he says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. hyunsuk begins to open his mouth to say something indignant (and probably gracelessly demand that mashiho get out) but mashiho keeps talking. “it’s just that, jihoon hyung really did use all the hot water in our dorm. i thought maybe you guys would let me shower here?” 

for a second hyunsuk just gawps. “uh.” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “you might notice that it’s currently in use.” his voice is a little higher than his usual octave, which doesn't exactly ease any of his embarrassment. mashiho tilts his head with a little smirk. 

“i thought korean idols _all_ showered together.” he says. hyunsuk purses his lips. even during the trainee days, when he’d been lumped in with far more than three other boys in much smaller living spaces, hyunsuk had avoided sharing the shower with others, even if it meant washing in cold water. the knowledge that he would be being economical did nothing to help his self image, and height wasn’t hyunsuk’s only insecurity. he’d spent many a night watching the music videos of his seniors, bitterly jealous that the glistening abdomens displayed by the likes of taeyang and bobby just felt so unattainable to him. 

but still, he and mashiho had gotten close ever since magnum and treasure merged. and mashiho wasn’t too different to hyunsuk in stature, either. and the conversation had added some time onto hyunsuk’s shower- he really _was_ going to use up all the hot water if he didn’t hurry up.

“i think that’s just something they say for fanservice.” hyunsuk says, deadpan. though, turning to face the shower wall, away from mashiho, he says; “get in, then. but i’m not washing your back.” 

“your loss.” mashiho says with a snort, and hyunsuk turns his attention back to the loofa he’d dropped on the floor in surprise when the door had opened. he does his best to ignore the sound of clothes dropping to the bathroom’s linoleum floor, and as the door to the shower is pulled open, hyunsuk picks a spot to stare at on the wall as he steps out from under the stream in order to let mashiho in. “there really is hot water left.” he says it as if he’s surprised; and the indignation has hyunsuk’s eyes darting to the back of mashiho’s head. privately, hyunsuk huffs. if news of his ‘long showers’ had travelled to the other dorms, who knows how much the story had been misrepresented. he’s about to comment on that, when, suddenly, mashiho turns around. 

it’s an innocent enough action; mashiho simply tilts his head back, wetting his hair under the shower, running his hands through it to push it back. shortly after the album jacket photoshoot, the stylists had cropped mashiho’s hair short; up and out of his face. hyunsuk had noticed how good it looked on him, but only in a casual way. he thought the new style suited him, and that was about the extent of it. it’s not until this exact moment that hyunsuk first notices that mashiho is kind of _hot_. 

but he pushes the thought out of his head. mashiho is an idol, of course he’s handsome. it’s easy enough to dismiss. mashiho is hyunsuk’s friend, and the fonder you grow of a person, the more you notice the good things about them. hyunsuk decides that there’s no real need to dwell too much on his newfound discovery, and he once more diverts his eyes; this time looking beyond the glass shower wall and out into the bathroom. 

and by accident; real, genuine accident, his eyes catch mashiho’s reflection in the glass and he notices something troubling.

before hyunsuk can process what he’s doing, his eyes snap back to mashiho; though this time he doesn’t look to his face. instead, his eyes dart downwards, below mashiho’s waist. 

that’s not fair. 

mashiho was shorter than hyunsuk; they were of similar builds. even their hands and feet were basically the same size. this doesn’t make any sense; it’s not proportionate at all— it’s _not fair._

“hyung?” asks mashiho, and when hyunsuk looks up, mashiho is staring at him with a quirked eyebrow. it’s hard to read his expression; and hyunsuk feels his ears burning red as he realises that he’s been caught. the embarrassment mixes in his brain, a cocktail brewing of shame and his lingering indignance at his recent discovery. a silence swells between them as he doesn’t immediately answer, and as he begins to babble out an explanation that he hasn’t actually come up with yet, mashiho just smirks, a smug expression finally settling on his face. 

“don’t worry.” mashiho says with a laugh; and he looks a little too proud of himself, and hyunsuk can feel an extremely irrational anger sparking inside him. mashiho simply turns his back on hyunsuk, picking up the body wash and pouring some onto his hands. “nobody ever expects it.” 

hyunsuk doesn’t say anything else; he just waits for mashiho to finish, eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. as soon as hyunsuk is finished washing, he leaves mashiho in the bathroom, wrapping a towel around himself and heading straight for his bedroom without so much as a goodbye. 

in the safety of his room, he drops his towel, and he stares down at himself. 

hyunsuk may have spent a lifetime feeling insecure about his height; or his build, but he’d never once felt insecure about his _size_. in both length and width, he was average enough to never have to think too much about it. until he saw mashiho naked. mashiho, the one member of treasure that was shorter than him; the one saving grace his confidence had. of course it had to be him. with a frustrated sigh, hyunsuk mutters to himself; “i can’t have shit.”

after he dries himself off and changes into a baggy snoop dogg t-shirt and a pair of football shorts, he sits down on his bed and flops onto his back. this isn’t fair; he thinks to himself again. because really, all hyunsuk can think is that this is direct karmic retribution. all this time, he’s been so smug about the fact that mashiho was the shortest, not him. but god doesn’t give with both hands. mashiho may be the shortest, but his cock was fucking huge.

hyunsuk lets out a frustrated groan, rolling onto his front. if ever there were valid reasons to boycott showering, this dorm was throwing them all at him in rapid succession. 

he tries his best to move on from the situation and purge it from his mind. and in some ways, it’s easy. preparing for a comeback is an extremely stressful process, and hyunsuk has always been hardworking in the yg entertainment sense of the word where the pressure to be the best in every possible meaning of the word overtakes every aspect of your being and you never give yourself so much as five seconds to breathe. during the next day’s dance practise, hyunsuk isn’t just looking at himself nor does he have time to be looking at mashiho dressed in grey sweatpants (like a whore.) he’s monitoring everyone, because the first stage of their comeback was in a matter of days and their dancing coaches had recently implied they weren’t up to par on the choreography yet. anything less than perfection was never acceptable to hyunsuk; but it was even harder not to stress himself insane about it this time, given the fact that the choreographers had deemed it suitable to include a stunt in the performance. 

when hyunsuk had tried to protest the idea of mashiho and yedam jumping up and standing on jaehyuk and yoshinori’s semi-upright backs, all four boys had vehemently insisted that they could handle it. hyunsuk had backed down per their request, but he still doesn’t like it. it’s not that he doesn’t trust their judgement. but he also fully understands that vehemently insisting that one can handle something stupid and dangerous that they can’t actually handle is a built-in part of being a man. 

once, while hyunsuk was drinking with jiwon, jiwon had pointed out that if you have a one-in-a-million chance of dying in a plane crash, that’s comforting odds until you’re in a boy band who do world tours and travel to-and-from japan on an increasingly regular basis. eventually, all you can imagine when you board a plane is the total number of flights you’ve taken in your life ticking up closer to a million. hyunsuk would feel more comfortable with the boys doing stunts in the choreography if this was a one off performance; but they’d be promoting this. that’s multiple performances a day including rehearsals and prerecordings. there’s no real statistical reason to believe that they would get through this without at least a minor injury. 

and so, clearly, there’s a lot on his mind. they cycle through the choreography again and again, and when mashiho’s feet land wrong on yoshinori’s back and he almost loses his balance, steadying himself at the last minute, hyunsuk calls it. 

“okay, for the rest of the day, we’ll practice without the stunts.” he says when the track ends. although yedam, jaehyuk and yoshinori just mutter affirmations; all too tired from a day of rehearsal to answer back, mashiho somehow still has some energy in him. 

“i caught myself, hyung.” he interrupts, sounding uncharacteristically irritated. it catches hyunsuk off guard, and the others seem to be surprised too, given the silence that falls over the dance studio. “i know how to do it, i messed up _once_ -”

“it has nothing to do with you.” hyunsuk interjects, keeping his voice level and his facial expressions neutral. he may be one of the group’s two leaders, but hyunsuk has never opposed his decisions being questioned. “it’s more that we’ve been dancing for hours, and we’re all getting tired. the safest thing to do is to stop the stunts for now.” 

“surely, the safest thing to do would be rehearse them until there’s no risk of messing up.” mashiho counters. behind him, hyunsuk sees yoshinori roll his eyes and walk to the bench to take a drink of his water. 

“and in the meantime, what if you fall and hurt yourself?” hyunsuk asks, folding his arms. he’s not against his decisions being questioned, but this isn’t something he’s going to budge on. “or what if you land weird again and this time you fuck yoshi’s back up?” 

mashiho opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. instead, he just stares at hyunsuk with a heavy frustration in his eyes. it shocks hyunsuk to core- in the past two years since he’d met the japanese trainees, he’d never seen mashiho get mad. jihoon finally speaks up, stepping in between the two boys in a way hyunsuk imagines he thinks is a subtle de-escalation technique. “hyung’s right.” jihoon says. “we’ve practiced the stunt enough for one day. why don’t we all take fifteen minutes to chill, and then we’ll rehearse the choreo without the stunt for a while.” 

jihoon’s interjection diffuses the tension, and everybody scatters. hyunsuk heads straight for the bench at the back of the room, and takes a long swing of his water. his head falls against the wall, and he notices immediately that mashiho hasn’t moved from the centre of the room. he stands, marking out the choreography, as all the other boys check their phones, get a drink, or joke around and laugh with one another. 

hyunsuk sits and watches mashiho’s reflection in the dance studio mirror. he didn’t notice in the heat of the moment, but as he monitors mashiho, he can’t help but feel a little too attracted to the frustrated expression on his face. he feels fucked up as soon as he thinks it, but something about mashiho’s determination to prove himself; and the way he stood up to hyunsuk- something about it was incredibly attractive. and he’s not proud, but now that he knew there was something to look at, hyunsuk’s eyes flicker down to mashiho’s grey sweatpants, and the way the fabric shifted with each movement.

it only lasts a few seconds, before he catches what he’s doing. he resists the urge to slap himself in the face in a bid to bring himself back down to reality, and instead does his best to distract himself with his phone. lusting after a groupmate was the type of embarrassing cliche that hyunsuk thought he was safe from. 

when he returns from dance practice, he showers first. and although it’s physically uninterrupted this time, he still can’t help his mind wander to mashiho. 

at first, it’s a purely innocent recollection of the day. he’s just running the almost-argument through his head; anxiously wondering; as he’s ought to do, if there was anything he could have said that would have prevented mashiho from getting annoyed at him. but soon enough, his thoughts are overtaken by the furrow of mashiho’s brow, the way that frustration was foreign in his soft, pretty features. mashiho was the type of pretty face who was destined to act cute in a boyband. there were no angles on him, just soft curves and big, expressive eyes and huge bright smiles. and yet, something about his irritation was intriguing. it almost made hyunsuk want to see him angry- which was concerning, because mashiho was hyunsuk’s friend and hyunsuk would never willingly do anything to upset him. 

somehow, hyunsuk’s thoughts go the way that thoughts go, and before he knows it he’s imagining mashiho pushing his back to the wall, his forearm pressing against hyunsuk’s neck, pinning him in place and—

before he can finish the thought, hyunsuk reaches out and twists the shower to the coldest possible setting. “no.” he mutters to himself. “not going there.” 

he goes to his room after he’s done showering, and for a few hours, he manages to distract himself with video games. even though he finds himself in a consistent losing streak, the frustration of playing poorly is a very welcome replacement for the other type of frustration that had been quietly boiling within him all ever since last night. even though he’s not doing a good job, for once in his life, he welcomes defeat, training his eyes on his computer monitor and pouring as much of his time into the game as he can. he stays up later than he should, despite the fact that he was well aware that treasure were expected to be at rehearsal no later than six in the morning. hyunsuk knew that the second he turned the lights off and got into bed, there’d be no way he’d be able to ward off the thoughts about mashiho and his stupid giant dick. and he wouldn’t have cold water at hand to douse himself with this time. 

eventually, though, even the most tenacious of his gaming friends bids hyunsuk goodnight and logs off. with a sigh, hyunsuk shuts his computer off and delays the inevitable by wandering to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. 

everyone develops crushes, he thinks to himself, leaning against the counter. he takes a sip, lips lingering on the rim of the glass. in a way, this is kind of a relief. hyunsuk had never been in a relationship, and the last time he was involved with someone, his heart had pretty thoroughly been trampled on. that was before they debuted, and hyunsuk had pretty heavily thrown himself headfirst into work as a result. it had made him a good idol, but it had cut off contact with most of his friends outside of the group, and it had saw his twenty-first birthday tick by with the goal of losing his virginity beforehand going unfulfilled. and yet, he didn’t worry about it. since the drama that had happened last september, he couldn’t even remember a single time in which he entertained the idea of even hooking up with someone. 

he didn’t see himself pursuing his newfound desire for mashiho, and he’s sure after the shock of mashiho’s anatomy wore off, this would fade away and live on as nothing more than an embarrassing private memory. but, on the bright side, at least this meant his wounds were starting to heal, right? this part of his brain hadn’t been so hurt after everything with jiwon that it would never work again after all.

if there’s a positive to twist from this, it’s that. a harmless crush on one of his fellow older boys in treasure was _bound_ to arise sooner or later; they were all good looking and hyunsuk spent almost every waking moment in their company. the rationalist in him finally kicks in to do its job and ease the guilt and shame he’d been feeling. 

and when he finally goes back to his room, peels out of the football top he’d been lounging in, and settles into bed, he resolves to get over his crush on mashiho at his own pace. as long as neither of them did anything to make things uncomfortable, then this shouldn’t affect anything between them. 

he closes his eyes with the knowledge that he only has an hour or two before his alarm will wake him. he tries to think of sheep to count, and when that doesn’t work, he runs through treasure’s choreographies in his head. first ‘boy.’ then ‘i love you.’ and finally he reaches ‘mmm,’ and he gets as far as the stunt before he’s thinking about the argument again. 

the images flash in quick succession; the frustration in mashiho’s eyes, water running down his body as his hands run through his hair. his cock. hyunsuk rolls onto his front, face burying in his pillow, and he wonders if mashiho’s cock gets much bigger when he gets hard. it leads him to think of mashiho aroused, and he feels himself get hard as he imagines mashiho sitting on the edge of his bed, knees open, stroking his long length slowly. without fully realising what his body is doing, hyunsuk begins to rut his hips against his mattress, a slow drag, and he imagines himself kneeling between mashiho’s spread knees. with a shivering breath, hyunsuk reaches under his blankets to roll his briefs down over the curve of his ass, stopping there, leaving his front covered; enjoying the friction of his cock against the smooth fabric, separating his skin from his hard, cheap mattress. 

as he imagines taking the heavy weight of mashiho’s cock on his tongue, he slips two of his fingers into his mouth. his tongue slides over then wetly, coating them in as much saliva as he can muster. and as he pictures mashiho’s cock; now a little unrealistic in its width (but it’s _hyunsuk’s_ fantasy to picture whatever he wishes,) stretching his mouth so wide that the corners of his lips would sting, he dips his wet fingers under his covers and between the curves of his ass cheeks. he starts slow, sliding his middle finger gently past the rim of his hole. his hips continue to buck against his mattress as he slowly fucks himself with his finger. 

he’s far too turned on to worry about the morality of his actions. he slips his finger in and out of himself at a slow pace, the position making it difficult to reach much deeper than his second knuckle. he only manages to imagine mashiho’s finger inside him in place of his own for a few seconds before his brain impatiently switches back to mashiho’s cock. hyunsuk slips his second finger in as he imagines how it would feel to be stretched open by mashiho, to feel so full as he thrust in and out of him. 

he pictures mashiho above him, hyunsuk’s legs on his shoulders as he looks down at him with that combative expression. hyunsuk’s arousal warps it, adding an ill-fitting darkness to mashiho’s eyes and an aggression to his movements. hyunsuk fucks himself as hard as he can manage with his two fingers; until the slick sounds of his saliva fill his small bedroom. rarely can hyunsuk’s own hand bring him to much more noise than shallow breaths, but with the added thought of mashiho- sweet, docile, kind mashiho losing his inhibitions, taking out all of his anger on hyunsuk, hyunsuk moans into his pillow as if he’s the whore his fantasy is fucking him like. each time hyunsuk's fingers reach as deep into his’s hole as they can go, he slurs mashiho’s name almost drunkenly, a whispered prayer to himself.

between the desperate, rhythmless rut of his hips against his bed and the merciless thrust of his own fingers, hyunsuk reaches his climax quick and hard, whining in a way he’d never heard himself whine before. when he cums into his underwear, it blurs his vision and cramps his wrist, and hyunsuk clenches so hard that his fingers ache. he’s sure his whine reaches an octave that would undoubtedly be heard by anybody in the dorm who was still awake, but his heart drums so hard in his ears that he barely even hears it himself. 

for a moment, he lays still, slowly catching his breath. soon though, the discomfort of his wettened underwear becomes unbearable, and he rolls onto his back as he pushes his blankets off of himself to let the cold air touch his overwhelmed body. he pulls the briefs off, grimacing as the fabric clings to his skin. 

“jesus fucking christ.” he mutters to himself, and as he grabs his football top from the floor to gracelessly wipe himself off, the realisation of what he’d just done crashes down around him. he’d never experienced such an intense orgasm in his life; and he was suddenly extremely grateful for the unwritten rule that naturally forms among boys living together; to ignore any weird noises you hear coming from someone’s bedroom at night time. 

his growing anxiety doesn’t find root in being overheard, though, so much as the simple fact that he’d had such an extreme reaction over the mere thought of having sex with mashiho. he had never intended to even let his thoughts get this far in the first place. he tosses the dirtied jersey onto the floor and pushes his bangs from his sweaty forehead as he stares up to his ceiling. and once more, he whispers, “jesus _fucking_ christ.”

maybe this was going to be a bigger problem than he thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! i have a twitter for talking about writing [here](https://twitter.com/jaepluhm)!
> 
> if you're enjoying this fic so far, please consider leaving a kudos and a comment! i would super appreciate it.


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